Which pooch will you pick

Cast a vote to choose a companion for Annie and the Hageman family

May 25, 2003|By William Hageman, Tribune staff reporter.

It's time to add another dog to our family. And we're going to let Q readers choose it. Last weekend, my wife and daughters, our dog and I visited two shelters and sorted through dozens of purebreds and mutts, looking for The Right Dog.

"If you're a dog lover, this is like being a kid in a candy store," Dona, my wife, said of the shelter visits. "Then again it's pretty sad too. You want to go home with a whole car full of them."

I told her she shouldn't even think that.

We were able to narrow the field to three dogs that fit our criteria. Now, during the next couple of days, you can vote for which of them you think we should adopt. And we'll abide by the vote. Think of this as "Married . . . With Children" meets "Married by America."

Some background: We've usually been a two-dog family, but we have been lax in replacing our second dog, who died a little more than a year ago. Now that current dog Annie is getting up there--she's supposedly 5, but we suspect she may be a year or two older--it's time to groom a successor.

We have room in the house and in a yard that supports a thriving population of birds, squirrels, chipmunks and the occasional possum, all begging to be barked at and/or chased. And our three daughters are well past the tail-pulling stage; the youngest, Katie, is 17.

We wanted to get a dog from a shelter, which is where Annie and two of her predecessors came from (you like to think the dog will toe the line after having been rescued from an uncertain fate; on the other hand, I've had carpenter and upholstery bills that shot that theory down).

Still, with an estimated 30,000 dogs and cats euthanized at Chicago-area shelters each year, there are plenty of quality animals to choose from without having to resort to pet stores, breeders or puppy mills.

A laid-back list

Our list of requirements was short and undemanding. Four legs (though even that was probably negotiable), at least semi-housebroken, a medium-sized adult rather than a puppy and a laid-back disposition.

We were prepared for the problems a new pet could bring. Would our furniture end up as kindling? Would we come home from work and find Annie missing an ear? Should we Scotch Guard the carpets? All good questions; all solvable problems.

There's nothing wrong with crating a dog during the day. Two animals with good dispositions should be able to get along.

And an animal that has outgrown puppyhood would have a leg up on being housebroken. We hope.

So the quest began. We visited Chicago's Animal Care and Control David R. Lee facility at 2741 S. Western Ave. and the Anti-Cruelty Society at 157 W. Grand Ave. last weekend. We saw maybe 100 dogs, each getting cursory looks ("way too big" . . . "that bark would drive the neighbors crazy" . . . "I've never seen an uglier animal"), some worth closer scrutiny.

After, oh, 2 minutes of looking at the caged dogs at our first stop, the Anti-Cruelty Society, we realized how difficult the search would be. At least five dogs were worthy to be on the ballot. But as Al Gore found out, elections can be funny things.

So, Coco, Princess and Alpha--all deserving, all cute, all eminently adoptable--sorry, kids, you failed to make the cut.

Daughter Julie's attention was drawn to a 3-month-old shepherd mix. But the little guy's energy level--he was banging his water bowl off the bars of the cage, like an inmate in one of those old prison movies, dragging a tin cup across the bars of his cell--worked against him.

And when he was brought out of his cage to meet an interested visitor, well, he blew it.

"I thought he was cute at first," Julie said. "But then I saw him trying to shred people."

Charming Blonca

Three dogs were brought into the Anti-Cruelty courtyard to meet the family and Annie. The first, a year-old white mix called Blonca, charmed everyone, snuggling with family members and exchanging the perfunctory nose-licking and butt-sniffing. With Annie, that is.

The second, a shepherd mix whose cage card listed her name as Queen, was a new mom (she'd had her puppies before being surrendered at the shelter) and was still on the thin side. Scrawny might be a better word.

"It was like seeing the Annie of four years ago standing next to Annie now," said daughter Kelly, comparing the bony Queen and the blimpy, 108-pound Annie.

Despite seeming extremely timid, Queen, too, was a big hit. Maybe it was because she kept trying to climb onto everyone's laps.

Maybe it was the pity factor; in addition to being skinny, she was missing the tip of one ear. Annie also gave this pup a big dew-claw up.

A third candidate, who shall be unnamed, was doing just fine till she started growling at the photographer. Annie also had an objection upon meeting this dog--projectile diarrhea. We took that as a no.

For the record, officials at both shelters knew what we were doing and thought it was a splendid idea. They pointed out that anything that gets dogs out of shelters and into homes--and the publicity from this story should do that--is good.